


Undying

by uncreative



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: #hipster elves, #modern day Au, #thorin and kili and fili are still alive and sailing to valinor, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncreative/pseuds/uncreative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which it turns out that Valinor is not unlike modern-day Earth...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End of a Journey

Kili wondered if he would ever see Tauriel again; honestly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

She was unlike any dwarf woman he had ever been with, her hair confined to her head and eyebrows, tall and lithe with aquiline features that he would gladly carve in bas-relief, her skin smooth and pearlescent, as pale and beautiful as the moon that accompanied the stars in the sky. And yet, something deep within him whispered misgivings and incoherent fears.

The shallow wooden boat rocked precariously. Thorin was at the prow. Back straight, chin high, one knee up on a crate, he was staring dramatically off into the mist rising from the glassy water. The theatrical quality was somewhat lessened by Fili’s grunts as he struggled to move two of the great oars at the same time, but overall Thorin still retained the grace and dignity that had distinguished him from the other dwarves back in Middle-Earth.

Kili could have stared at his uncle for a long time, but there were more pressing matters to deal with.

The sea was not kind to him.

He leaned over the side of the boat and promptly evacuated his stomach of his breakfast. Thorin paused his brooding to glance over at him to make sure he was all right.

“There’s only one more day until we get there, I think.” The words were meant to be a reassurance to Kili, but even as he spoke them, Thorin knew that his nephew was groaning inwardly at the fact that they would have to spend twenty-four more hours on this damned vessel.

“Seasick again! There aren’t even any waves!” Fili was, as usual, teasing him in his harmless way, but a quick glance from Thorin quelled the next remark before it was even spoken.

Thorin was attentive, looking out over the smooth surface of the water, past the patches of mist, towards what could only be –

Kili jerked his head up. “Land!”

The thought brought with it almost too much joy to bear. The Land that they saw – the dark splotch on the horizon – had to be Valinor – they had already passed Numenor and left it behind.

Fili called out. “Could I get a hand with these oars?”

Kili flushed. Helping with the oars was supposed to have been his task, but he had abandoned it in favour of mooning over a girl. (No, scratch that, his mind whispered. Tauriel was an elf maiden, not a _girl._ ) He moved to pick up one oar, but Thorin had beat him to it.

“Hey, Kili, stand at the prow and keep an eye on things.” Thorin’s voice showed no trace of disappointment or anger.

And that was precisely why it made him feel so guilty.


	2. Almost Beginnings

**70 years later**

The line was way too long for Thranduil’s liking.

He straightened up, brushing off imaginary dust from his silk robe and made his way up to the register, ignoring the murderous looks the other customers gave him. After all, one of the best things about Valinor was that there was far less emphasis on honour and nobility than on Middle Earth. Here, his behaviour would not provoke a fight.

The barista looked at him, pursing her lips as though she had just tasted something incredibly sour. Her greeting and falsely chipper tone were lost on him as he scanned the menu for something relatively off-the-map. He settled on an iced coffee with two pumps of hazelnut syrup. When his drink was ready, he pulled out his white iPhone and tapped insistently on it. Choosing which Instagram filter to use was almost a battle in itself.

Galadriel was waiting for him when he finally returned to his apartment.

“Hey there, big boy.” Her greeting would have elicited a stronger response if her tone was any less sarcastic. As it was, Thranduil had to swallow his urge to walk over to her and do something, _anything,_ to make it clear that he wanted more out of this relationship than just casual sex. He would have stared at her forever behind the safety of his aviators.

He gaped dumbly until she walked up and pulled the aviators off his face in one graceful, fluid motion. She set them on her own face, the bug-like effect of the huge tinted lenses (that framed her nose and skimmed her eyebrows) in no way detracting from her ethereal beauty. She leaned towards him, lips parted, and he reciprocated, pulling her toward him and touching his lips to hers – rather distractedly, for just then there was a loud pounding on the door.

Thranduil strode over and put his eye to the peep-hole, but there was nothing there other than a package out in the hall. He went to pick it up, noticing that it was not for him at all.

“It’s for you.” Back inside the apartment, he held the package out to Galadriel. He was burning with curiosity and he was thinking back to the last time he had given something to her and he wanted to make up for all his shortcomings and he probably would have proposed to her in that instant but then his iPhone rang and she accepted the package and the spell that had gripped him was broken and he turned to answer the call and they both were left with something wistful and unspoken.

A trace of that wistful and unspoken thing lingered in his voice as he held the phone to his ear and greeted the caller with (a subdued version of) his customary “Yes?”

“Ayyyy, Thranduil! I have something to tell you very important come immediately.” It was Gandalf’s voice on the other end, but a very un-Gandalf-ish tone, with the words slurred together and mangled before they exited his mouth in a logorrheic torrent. Before Thranduil could reply, or even breathe, Gandalf had hung up.

Thranduil pocketed his phone yet again, and looked at Galadriel. She was holding the contents of the package, which turned out to be – except it couldn’t be…

“Narya!” The word left Thranduil in a daze. “But that ring has no power anymore, as is the case with the other Elven-rings! Why was it sent here?” He was beginning to feel a layer of sweat seeping into his silk robe, accompanied by an ominous feeling settling on his chest like he had settled on his throne so many times before in Mirkwood.

Galadriel shrugged, her honey-blonde hair rippling like golden water. She wordlessly swept out of the apartment, her maxi dress trailing on the floor slightly as she stepped over the threshold and into the hallway.

Thranduil sat down and considered the events of the past minute, his head throbbing with the beginnings of a stress migraine. He really needed a drink.


End file.
